


hearts of broken glass

by CheshireJabberwock



Series: The (Mis)Adventures of DICE [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Abusive Parents, Character Study, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Child Poverty, Gen, nothing too graphic or explicit but this is a Bad Childhood Fic ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireJabberwock/pseuds/CheshireJabberwock
Summary: Lies are shaped by truth, and the truth becomes lies. People aren't born twisted. Everyone has an origin story. A Kokichi Ouma character study.





	1. 5-6 years old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be strongly headcanon-based, since I originally started writing it to be a quick backstory fic for my Kokichi RP blog. Don’t like don’t read, yadda yadda.
> 
> A lot of this is 100% based off of stereotypes, and not meant to be at all true to life. Just like almost all the backstories of the V3 cast. ;)
> 
> That said, there are some potentially triggery tropes being used here. I don’t get graphic or explicit, but please read with care.

_5 years old_

 

Kokichi woke shivering and hungry.

He sat up on the old, thin futon, scrubbing at his eyes and scratching his new bug bites as he yawned. He looked around, vision bleary. The rusty space heater next to his bed was off. So were the lights.

It was early, but he could already hear his parents fighting.

“ – _your_ turn to pay the fucking bills, you stupid fucking _cunt_ – ”

“ – took _my_ money to buy _your_ fucking drugs – ”

Kokichi tip-toed out of his room, well-practiced at avoiding any garbage that rustled or crinkled. He’d have to go past his parents to reach the kitchen, so he went for the apartment door instead. It was easier to find food outside than at home, and his parents wouldn’t miss him.

They were probably even happier when they didn’t see him, Kokichi figured. Since whenever they did, Dad would throw bottles at him or Mom would yank his hair and scream. Better not to bother them when they were already upset.

Ever since they’d left Japan and come to this country, Mom and Dad were _always_ upset.

Kokichi’s shoes were down to torn-up scraps, so he just went out barefoot.

He’d finally learned all the bad streets, and navigated his way to the best dive bar dumpster within ten minutes of home. With a practiced leap, he grabbed the lip of the dumpster and hauled his body up to drape over it. Reaching in, he sifted through the refuse, looking for the least-rotten edible solids.

“You again?” a disgruntled voice demanded. Kokichi glanced up, still shoveling soggy fries into his mouth.

Three other children were closing in on him. Kokichi had run into them a few times in recent weeks, so he’d made it a point to learn their names. The fat boy with greasy lank hair was Ken. The well-groomed but too-skinny girl with the purple-ish hair was Su. And the big, ruddy-skinned boy with coarse black hair who’d spoken was their leader, Teo. They weren’t much older than Kokichi, but still a lot bigger than him.

“Good morning, Teo,” Kokichi piped. If he argued with them, they would beat him up. If he cowered, they would beat him up. If he ran, they would chase him and beat him up. So this time he’d try being nice.

Upper lip curling, Teo stormed up, grabbed the back of Kokichi’s shirt, and yanked him off the dumpster. Kokichi flinched when he hit the ground, but otherwise sat quietly where he’d fallen, neither quailing nor glaring. If he was going to get beaten up, better to just get it over with so he could look for more food. Teo and his friends didn’t hit as hard as Dad did, anyway. They wanted to scare him off, that was all.

“Thought I told you this was _our_ turf,” Teo growled. “That I didn’t wanna _see_ you no more.”

“I gotta eat, though,” Kokichi replied, shrugging. “You can hit me if it makes you feel better. But I gotta eat, Teo.”

Su and Ken exchanged a confused look, and Teo’s eyebrows climbed into his hair as he started to frown. Kokichi hadn’t seen a frown like that before, so he wasn’t sure what it meant.

“You should eat on your own turf,” Ken complained.

“Yeah, this neighborhood is ours. Since, like, _forever,_ ” Su added.

“I don’t have a turf,” Kokichi said simply.

“Where d’you sleep, then?” Teo asked, an odd note in his voice. Kokichi tilted his head, confused.

“With Mom and Dad. Isn’t that what you guys do?”

Su rolled her eyes, and Ken scowled. Teo barked a laugh.

“We ain’t got a Mom and Dad. How come you eat garbage if you do?” Before Kokichi could answer, Teo poked him in the forehead, where Dad had got him with a broken bottle last night. Kokichi flinched back. “We don’t do bleeding. Who’s this from?”

Kokichi squirmed. He wasn’t supposed to tell.

Teo nodded, as if he knew anyway. “What’s your name, kid? How old are you?”

“Kokichi. I’m five and a half.”

“Wanna join my gang, Kokichi? Then you can be on our turf all you want.”

Kokichi considered it. “What does a gang do?” He knew what grown-up gangs did, a little, but he wasn’t sure about kid gangs.

“Our gang finds food,” said Ken.

“We all sleep in the same place,” Su added. “It’s safer.”

Teo thumped his own chest. “And the gang leader _keeps_ it safe, and keeps rival gangs out. You join my gang, I’ll protect you. No one hits you no more, or they deal with _all_ of us. So how ‘bout it? You in?”

Teo offered him his hand.

Kokichi looked them over. They definitely looked like they ate better than him. He didn’t see any bruises or cuts or burns, like what he had. It would be easier to find food with more people looking, warmer to sleep with others around him.

He wouldn’t have to listen to Mom and Dad fight all the time.

“Okay,” Kokichi agreed, and let Teo help him up.

 

***

 

_6 years old_

 

“Do we have enough warm clothes for the winter, Chen?” Teo asked.

Chen anxiously twirled a strand of brown hair around his finger. “Um… I dunno. Kokichi and Emi brought enough blankets from their parents’ places, but their clothes won’t fit all of us, and I dunno if we have enough…”

Kokichi only half-listened to the conversation, perched on a dusty windowsill as he watched the streets below through cracked glass. This old building was abandoned, so it didn’t have electricity or running water, and it was crumbling in places. It would protect them from the worst of the wind and the rain, but winter still got cold.

It’d be so much easier if they could just buy clothes, like adults did, but Teo’s gang didn’t have any money. When they stole, it was food. When they begged, it was for food. When they went scavenging, it was for food.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Teo’s brother Lee asked, tall enough to peer over Kokichi’s shoulder. Teo and Lee were seven, big for their age and the gang’s best fighters.

“That man,” Kokichi said, pointing. “He walks past here every morning with that guitar case. I was wondering how come.”

Lee followed Kokichi’s gaze. “I think his name’s Sho. He plays guitar on busy street corners. His usual spot is only a couple blocks down that way.”

“Why’s he do that?” Kokichi asked. Lee snorted.

“For money, stupid. None of the grown-ups eat trash unless they hafta, so they’ve all got ways of makin’ money.”

“Does he make a lot of money like that?”

“Probably. He looks like he eats good, and he’s clean and dressed nice, most of the time. I’ve watched him play a couple times, he’s always got big crowds. Sounds really good, too.”

“And the crowds just give him money?” Kokichi looked up at Lee, wide-eyed. He couldn’t imagine what it was like, having enough money to just give it away.

“Yeah. He leaves his guitar case open, and they just throw it in.”

Kokichi hummed thoughtfully. “If we had money, we could get enough warm clothes. We should do that, too.”

“You play guitar?” Lee asked skeptically.

“No.”

“Any instrument?”

“No.”

“Sing? Dance? Magic tricks?”

“No.”

“None of us do,” Lee said, shrugging. “So we can’t get money like that.”

Kokichi didn’t reply, and eventually Lee wandered away. Kokichi kept watching the street, letting his thoughts circle around until they cornered an idea.

If people gave their money to Sho, they’d have to take their wallets out, first.

He finally looked away from the window, back towards the others. There were ten of them, all together. Teo and Lee, Ken, Su, Chen, Emi, the blond spiky-haired brothers Big Bo and Little Bo, and the new girl, Mei. Mei was the only one younger than Kokichi, though Little Bo and Chen were the same age.

Little Bo was too bratty for what Kokichi wanted, and Chen too scared. So Kokichi hopped off the window sill and trotted over to Mei, sitting near the fire barrel with her hands on her knees.

“Wanna try somethin’ with me?” Kokichi asked her. Mei glanced at him.

“Try what?”

Kokichi explained his idea, Mei agreed, and they asked Su to help them get ready. Su picked out their cleanest, least-ratty clothes while Kokichi and Mei washed their hair and faces. They each put on one of Emi’s old puffy coats, and styled each other’s hair with some of Emi’s accessories. Then, they set out for the busy streets.

Kokichi led them to the sidewalk where Sho was performing. A crowd had formed already, and it was suddenly easy to understand why; Sho’s music was electric, for all that it came from an acoustic guitar.

Wiggling with excitement, Kokichi led Mei into the crowd.

Mei would tug a coat here, Kokichi would pluck at a sleeve there, one would turn tear-filled eyes up, “Mister, have you s-seen our Mommy…?” And the other quickly picked their pockets. They had a dozen wallets between them by the time the song ended and the crowd began to disburse.

Kokichi and Mei ducked into the nearest alley, giggling and whispering about their haul. Before they could go more than a few steps, though, a rough hand closed down on Kokichi’s shoulder, pinning him in place.

Kokichi and Mei locked eyes, purple urging green, and with a muffled whine of protest, Mei turned and fled. Only then did Kokichi look up at the adult who’d grabbed him.

Sho scowled down at him. “Half your take,” the man growled, other hand extending in expectation. “That’s including what yer friend has, mind. And don’t let me catch ya in my crowd again, brat. Don’t want a reputation for pickpockets at my show.”

Immediately and without protest, Kokichi pulled five of the wallets he’d stolen out of his coat. He was too small and weak to escape from an adult with their hands on him, and appeasing Sho might avoid a beating, or at least keep it on the lighter side.

Sho stuffed the wallets in his own coat, frowning as he looked Kokichi over.

“Got a cute face, don’t ya,” he said, more to himself than Kokichi, appraising him as he might a slab of beef. Sho pulled Kokichi’s shoulder, and crouched down, so that they were face to face. He gripped Kokichi’s chin, turned his head back and forth, and let out a thoughtful grunt. “Not too dirty, no scars or bruises on yer face.”

Kokichi stood quiet and pliant. Sho hadn’t hit him yet, and he didn’t want to give him a reason to.

“You run with the gang in this neighborhood, don’t ya? Thought you kids mainly went for food.”

Though not phrased as a question, Kokichi could tell Sho expected an answer. He immediately discarded the option to stay silent; he’d just get hit. He didn’t think a lie would get a better reaction than the truth, either. Playing it up might even help.

“It’s almost winter,” Kokichi said in a trembly, sad voice, making his eyes big and watery. “We’re cold, mister.”

Sho huffed a laugh. “Shit, ya turn on the waterworks fast.” Nodding, Sho stood, and shifted his hand from Kokichi’s face to his collar to keep him from bolting. “Ya want money, right, kid?”

Kokichi nodded. It was too obvious to be worth denying.

“There’s a gig I can set you up with. If I do, you and yer friends stay away from my shows, yeah?”

Kokichi nodded again. “Promise.” If this gig made them enough money, he might even keep his word. At the very least, he wouldn’t let Sho see him at it again.

“Right then,” Sho grunted. “Gonna pack up. Come with me.”

Sho packed up his things, and led Kokichi away from the busy streets, towards the suits district. There were lots of nice cars around, and men in fancy suits. Kokichi wasn’t sure what kind of job there could be for him here.

Sho turned down a side street, then another, and another. Kokichi’s eyes darted around, memorizing the way and noticing anything that stood out, while still keeping at least half his attention on Sho. The street musician was fiddling with the wallets Kokichi gave him, pulling all the cash out.

Finally, Sho led him down some stairs, to a plain black door. Kokichi could already smell the cigarette smoke inside. Sho’s demeanor changed from rough to nervous, and he rapped his knuckles on the door.

A _huge_ man opened the door, wearing the kind of suit Kokichi already knew to associate with the mob. Kokichi didn’t have to see it to know he was carrying at least one gun.

He looked Sho up and down, and barely glanced at Kokichi, before turning to call over his shoulder, “Music man’s here.”

A shorter, but somehow scarier man came out to greet them. “Sho! This is a pleasant surprise. Paying your dues on _time?_ ”

“Yessir, Mr. Fan, sir,” Sho said, and held out the stack of cash. The bodyguard took it, rifling through the bills. “This too,” he added, roughly nudging Kokichi forward. “Heard ya were lookin’ for cute kids.”

Mr. Fan’s sharp eyes fell on Kokichi, and Kokichi put on the most wide-eyed innocent face he could. Stranger adults weren’t like his parents; the cuter and sadder he looked, the more reluctant they were to hit him, and the lighter their blows would fall.

“Shit, she is cute, isn’t she?” Mr. Fan said, barking a laugh. Kokichi wasn’t sure whether he should correct the man or not; was it better or worse to be a girl for the job? Would Mr. Fan get mad and hit him if Kokichi told him he was wrong? Would they even take him at his word? He was wearing a girl’s coat, after all, and Mei had put barrettes in his hair.

Mr. Fan took the stack of bills from the bodyguard, flipped through it quickly, then nodded. “This plus the kid is enough. Good job, Sho. See you next month.”

“Yessir, thank you sir, Mr. Fan, sir,” Sho said, and beat a hasty retreat.

“Come on in, sweetheart,” Mr. Fan purred, taking Kokichi’s hand and leading him inside; it was a ratty old game parlor, with card tables and a bar. There were lots of men in suits inside, almost all of them smoking as they played cards.

All of them had guns. Not always visible, but Kokichi could tell. He made his face go blank, and hunched his shoulders, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

Mr. Fan led him to a narrow staircase just past the bar, up three flights in the dimly-lit stairwell, to a locked door. He opened it, and shoved Kokichi inside.

There were three adults there already, plus a boy about Kokichi’s age, standing still with his arms out while one of the adults took his measurements. He had dirty blond hair, long enough to half-cover his face. When his eyes met Kokichi’s, Kokichi tilted his head, curious. The boy’s eyes were dead and dull in a way Kokichi had only seen on corpses before.

“Goodness, what a cutie,” said the only woman in the room, stepping between the children. Just as Sho had done earlier, she crouched down so she could take hold of Kokichi’s chin and tilt his head back and forth. “You come here by yourself, hun?”

“Sho said I could make money for my gang,” Kokichi declared, batting his eyes and trying to look sweet and dumb. Adults didn’t like smart kids.

Behind him, Mr. Fan barked a laugh. “He did, did he?”

“Oh, hush, Fan,” the woman said, standing and lightly smacking the front of the man’s suit, in a playful way. “Why not, huh? She’ll work harder if she’s helping her friends.”

Fan shrugged. “It’s your con, Mari. Do what you want.” With that, he left the room.

The woman – Mari – smiled down at Kokichi. She had sleek black hair that cascaded down her back in glossy waves, wore an expensive dress, lots of jewelry, and heavy make-up. She looked like she had a lot of money. “You can do what you’re told, right, hun?”

Kokichi nodded, beaming up at her. “Yeah!”

Mari chuckled. “How about cry on demand?” Kokichi nodded again. “Show me, then. Make it as convincing as you can.”

Kokichi let his eyes well with tears, sniffled, and made a small, whimpery sound. Then, as the tears spilled down his cheeks and his nose began to drip, he began to sob. First quietly, but it built up into full-volume wails.

Mari clapped her hands, and Kokichi immediately stopped, wiping his face on his sleeves. “Oh, bravo!” She laughed. “You’re a little actress, aren’t you, hun? The perfect partner for you, huh, Takumi?”

Mari patted the blond boy on the head. He didn’t react at all.

“Here’s what your role will be,” Mari said, turning back to Kokichi. “You and Takumi will play orphans from an orphanage I sponsor, and come with me to lots of parties. You’ll sit on the laps of rich men, and make them feel sorry for you, okay? Win their hearts over, be very cute. And tell them how wonderful I am to you, of course. Then they’ll give us lots of money. Here, we’ll practice. I want to see how you improvise.”

Mari crooked a finger at the man standing by the door, who looked like another bodyguard. He walked over, and without warning, scooped Kokichi up into his arms. Kokichi decided the cute thing to do was clutch lightly at his shoulder and the front of his jacket.

“Tell me about the orphanage, kid,” the bodyguard said, hard-faced and reeking of cigarettes.

“It’s soooo nice,” Kokichi gushed immediately, eyes shining. “I like it so much better than the old warehouse where I used to sleep! I can eat every day, and play with my friends, and Miss Mari comes to visit us all the time!”

“You like Miss Mari, do ya?”

“I _love_ Miss Mari,” Kokichi corrected, half-scold, half-brag. “She’s the _best_.”

The bodyguard’s lips twitched, and he put Kokichi down. “I think this kid’s a boy, Mari.”

Mari blinked, then shrugged. “Well, we’ll dress him up as a girl. Old rich men are suckers for a precocious little girl. What’s your name, hun?”

“Kokichi.”

“Too masculine. Pick a girl’s name,” Mari instructed.

“My name’s Kaori, Miss Mari!” Kokichi said immediately, and Mari smiled.

“Yes, you’re very good at doing what you’re told. You said you have a gang, Kokichi?”

“Yeah.”

“You live together with them?” Mari pressed. Kokichi nodded. Mari patted Takumi on the shoulder. “Have room for one more? It’s a pain having to take care of a kid when I don’t need him.”

“Sure,” Kokichi agreed. He didn’t think Teo or any of the others would mind, especially not if they made lots of money. Anyway, he was curious about Takumi.

“Excellent. Take Kokichi’s measurements too,” Mari instructed the man with the tape measure. “Then we’ll have Zhen here,” she gestured to the bodyguard, “take you to wherever it is your gang lives. We’ll send a car to pick you up when we need you, so be ready, okay?”

“Yes, Miss Mari,” Kokichi said. Mari patted him on the head, long fake nails scraping against his scalp.

“Good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a one-shot with like half a dozen short snippets, and then I got ambitious so now it’s multi-chapter. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. 6-10 years old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this first scene should have gone at the end of the last chapter, but oh well. This isn't going to be a long fic, since it's just a character study. Proooooobably 4 or 5 chapters total? I'm thinking 6 at the VERY most.
> 
> It’s only gonna keep getting darker and uglier, so please read with caution.

_6 years old, continued_

 

The moment Zhen left, Teo grabbed the front of Kokichi’s coat.

“The hell were you thinkin’, stupid!” he bellowed. “Mei comes back here _cryin’_ , you disappear for _hours_ , and when you finally show up, it’s with the fuckin’ _mob!_ The fuck is _wrong_ with you?!”

Kokichi blinked up at Teo, limp in his grasp. Why was Teo angry? The others weren’t going to help him; the moment Teo erupted, they had backed away, watching with concern and confusion.

“If we can make money, we can get coats and winter stuff,” Kokichi reasoned. “The mob has a lot of money.”

Teo shook Kokichi so hard his teeth rattled. “Gettin’ involved with them is bad news, stupid! They’ll use you up and spit you out! Look at him!” He let go with one hand to point viciously at dead-eyed Takumi, being fussed over by Su. “You think he’s like that ‘cuz bein’ with the mob is _fun?_ ”

Oh, Kokichi realized. Teo wasn’t really mad. He was scared – not for himself, but for Kokichi’s sake. Kokichi had never seen someone else be scared for him before.

But being scared didn’t make it okay to be wrong.

“ _This_ isn’t fun either,” Kokichi said simply, gesturing around the derelict building. “It’ll never _be_ fun. If we have money, we can live better. There’s no fun way to do that, so we’re stuck with not-fun ways.” He looked up earnestly at the gang’s leader. “It’s okay, Teo. They only want Takumi and me. The rest of you don’t need to get involved with them.”

Teo’s arm rocketed back and clocked Kokichi right in the jaw, sending him stumbling over his feet and falling on his butt. Kokichi lifted one hand to the throbbing pain in his face, staring wide-eyed at Teo. He hadn’t hit Kokichi since the day he’d joined the gang.

“Stupid!” Teo kneeled down so he could grab Kokichi by the front of his shirt again and keep shaking him. There were tears in his eyes, Kokichi realized dizzily. “Of course we’re involved! You think I’d ever let them hurt you? You _stupid!_ You’re my _family!_ I ain’t losin’ any more family to the fuckin’ mob!”

“Teo!” Lee grabbed his brother, hauling him off of Kokichi. Teo shook Lee off, stabbed Kokichi with one more blistering glare, and stormed away.

Emi dashed over to Kokichi, and helped him stand up. “Come on, we’ll take care of that,” she said quietly, pulling him over to where they kept their scant first aid supplies. Just some band-aids and a precious bottle of aspirin, but they made do.

Su joined them, tugging Takumi along behind her. She was glaring at Kokichi, too, but she didn’t say anything.

Kokichi wasn’t wrong. He _knew_ he wasn’t wrong. Why couldn’t Teo understand that he was Kokichi’s family, too? Kokichi was too small to fight good, was one of the worst at telling if food was good to eat or not, didn’t know how to patch up torn clothes like Chen or Emi did. He wasn’t even the best at stealing, which was the only way he’d ever helped the gang.

All he was good at was thinking and lying. If he could use that to help the others, he would, and not even Teo could stop him.

Searching for a way to change the topic and lift the tension, Kokichi met Takumi’s eyes.

“Hey, Takumi, can you talk?” Kokichi asked. He hadn’t heard the other boy speak yet.

“Yeah,” Takumi mumbed, voice as dull and lifeless as his eyes. The answer had been automatic and thoughtless, like a computer program. Kokichi wrinkled his nose. That wouldn’t do at all.

He closed the distance between them, and pinched Takumi’s cheeks, pulling them up to force his lips into an unconvincing semblance of a smile. Then, he waited.

After a few minutes, Takumi finally garbled out, “…what’re you doin’.”

“Trying to get your face to freeze this way,” Kokichi said, _very_ seriously. And also not at all. Behind him, Emi swallowed a giggle.

Takumi blinked at him, and then slowly, his eyebrows drew down, the first exercise of expression Kokichi had seen on him. “Huh?”

“If we’re gonna work together,” Kokichi declared, “you’re not allowed to be boring. If you won’t _say_ anything funny, you should at least _look_ funny.”

Takumi only looked more confused. But for the first time, it felt like he was really _seeing_ Kokichi in front of him, and that was enough for now.

 

***

 

_8 years old_

 

Kokichi wiped his mouth with the back of his hand the moment Jing wasn’t looking, and trotted around the corner back to the party. Why were some of these old men so _gross?_

He’d whimper for Miss Mari’s sympathies later and twist a bigger take out of her. Kokichi was willing to endure sloppy kisses once or twice, but Jing did it at _every_ party. A bonus was the least she could give him in exchange for his putting up with that.

Spotting Takumi, Kokichi made a beeline for him, and grabbed his hand before he’d even realized Kokichi was there. Takumi glanced at him, mouth set in a thoughtful frown.

“Awww, look at you two _holding hands_ ,” cooed Pamela, pinching Kokichi’s cheek. He tolerated it as well he could; the white lady was old, and fat, and smelled bad, but she had a lot of money, and always donated.

“You two are just the bestest of fwiends, awen’t you?” she went on in the same baby-voice.

“Takumi and I are gonna get _married_ when we’re big,” Kokichi declared with a bubbly giggle, gripping tighter when Takumi tried to pull his hand away. Takumi’s frown turned into a scowl, and he glared at Kokichi.

Kokichi met his eyes, silently pleading _Don’t let go._

Takumi’s scowl fell away, and he huffed a sigh, looking away with red cheeks.

Pamela squealed over them for a few minutes more, before Miss Mari arrived to save them. The party was wrapping up.

Once they were in the car, Kokichi sidled up beside Miss Mari.

“That old man Jing is sooooooo gross,” he whined to her, fingers tangling in the skirt of his dress. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Takumi look at him sharply. “I dunno if I can keep putting up with that guy, Miss Mari…”

Miss Mari stopped reading through the donation checks, and gave Kokichi an exasperated look.

“You and your extortion,” she sighed, reaching for her purse.

“I learned from the best,” Kokichi said sweetly, and Miss Mari laughed. He’d learned to always balance his requests with some flattery. Miss Mari projected her own past onto him, and Kokichi had made their work relationship lucrative by turning that to his advantage.

“Here you go, you little con artist,” Miss Mari said with dry affection, shoving a stack of bills into Kokichi’s eager hands. “Remind me to have someone get some pics next time. Jing’s the CEO of a multibillion, global corporation. If he’s this big a pedo, it’s worth blackmailing him.”

“‘Kaaaaaay,” Kokichi hummed.

The driver dropped off Kokichi and Takumi at the abandoned building. They waited until the car was out of sight, then set off down the dark streets for the warehouse the gang had moved into a year ago. Teo didn’t like the mob knowing where they lived.

“When you say ‘gross,’” Takumi murmured as they walked, “what do you mean?”

Kokichi blinked at him, startled but delighted. Takumi was more expressive than he used to be, but he still didn’t talk very much. He almost never asked any questions at all. It was nice to see that changing. The more interest he showed in things, the less boring he was.

“Just, y’know, gross old man stuff. Jing likes to kiss me, and sometimes he pats my butt or pinches my sides. If I got loud about it at a party, he wouldn’t come anymore, and he gives a lot of money. So Miss Mari gives me extra if I stay quiet,” Kokichi finished smugly.

Takumi didn’t speak again until they were almost to the warehouse. “I don’t think we should work with them anymore.”

“Huh? Why not?” Kokichi asked. “We won’t make that much money anywhere else. Su and Emi will let old fogeys kiss them or pinch them for cash sometimes, too, but they don’t bring in nearly as much ‘cuz not every old fogey is rich.”

Takumi stopped walking, so Kokichi stopped, too.

“We should get out of here,” Takumi said, soft but firm.

“Out of here?” Kokichi repeated.

Takumi’s hands clenched into fists. “Out of this neighborhood. Out of this country. Out of this _life_. You and Su and Emi shouldn’t have to let grown-ups touch you anymore. Big Bo and Ken shouldn’t have to work at that sweaty factory anymore. Teo and Lee shouldn’t have to get into fights all the time. Chen and Little Bo and Mei shouldn’t have to spend every day digging through garbage so that we can eat. We shouldn’t have to be so sick and hungry all the time. We should go somewhere with nice houses, and nice food, and nice people.”

Kokichi crossed his arms, and nodded seriously. Takumi wouldn’t listen if he explained it, so better to help him figure it out for himself. “Okay, okay,” he chirped. “That’s such a great idea, Takumi! How do we do that?”

Takumi’s brow furrowed, and he looked away. Kokichi skipped closer, back into Takumi’s line of sight, forcing the taller boy to look at him.

“How do we?” Kokichi pressed, smiling brightly with steel in his voice. “How can kids buy their own plane or train tickets, or travel at all without an adult? How can we get a passport or a visa or any of the things we need to leave the country? How can we get enough money for a nice house, and nice food, in a neighborhood with nice people? Hey!”

Takumi tried to turn his head away again, so Kokichi grabbed his face between his hands and forced him to look at Kokichi.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” Kokichi said, half cheerful sing-song, half sneer. “How can we _do_ that, _huh?_ Takumi?”

Takumi slapped Kokichi’s arms away, and shoved his hand down the front of Kokichi’s dress, where Kokichi had stashed the money. Takumi grabbed it, and without another word, stormed off in the opposite direction.

Kokichi watched him go, then shrugged and went home.

When Takumi finally showed up, close to sunset the next day, it was with quite the haul.

“Is that a _computer?_ ” Teo demanded, incredulous, and Takumi hooked it up to the small generator they used. “Why the fuck would you waste money on that?”

“It’s not a waste,” Takumi said coolly, the first time he’d ever talked back to Teo. Or anyone. “Grown-ups use computers for all sorts of things. Buying stuff, making official-looking papers, getting information.” He looked Kokichi right in the eyes. “We can do all _sorts_ of things with one of these.”

Kokichi’s eyes widened.

“You know how to use it at all?” Lee asked skeptically.

“No,” Takumi said, mouth in a grim line as he looked at the computer screen. “But I’m going to learn.”

After a moment of contemplation, Kokichi plopped down right next to him, bumping his shoulder against Takumi’s. “Me too.”

Takumi smiled.

Takumi hadn’t resigned himself to this life. Despite everything he’d been through, he still had hope. Hope that they could live better, healthier, safer, _happier_.

If Takumi could still hope, Kokichi would, too.

 

***

 

_10 years old_

 

Kokichi finished forging the signatures, and stamped the documents with the stolen seal. Tedious task finally over, he leaned back in his chair, stretching.

“All done, Mr. Fan,” he announced. Fan picked up the stack of papers, carefully examining each one to made sure it held up. Since Fan wasn’t paying attention to him, Kokichi made a silly face at Diego, his mountain of a bodyguard, instead.

No reaction. Ugh, he missed working with Miss Mari and Zhen.

“Not half bad,” Fan finally said – high praise from him – handing the papers off to Diego. He grabbed one of the other chairs at the card table, and spun it around so he could sit in it backwards, right across from Kokichi.

Kokichi didn’t allow himself to react outwardly, continuing his normal pattern of bored fidgeting, but alarms were going off in his head. He refocused on Fan, attention sharp and wary.

“I’ve gotta hand it to ya, kid,” Fan said, crossing his arms over the back of his chair as he smirked. “You’re real useful. Mari’s con pulls in the best results when you’re there – sometimes almost double. I’ve seen you weasel your way out of or into whatever you want. You use every tool you’ve got, and learn new ones fast. You’ve got a good head for this game. The other kids I’ve got workin’ are all interchangeable, but you – you’ve proved you’re worth the time and money I’ve invested in you.”

Kokichi stilled, and managed to keep his expression to a curious smile, with a faint blush of faux-pleasure at all the praise. His thoughts were already spinning, circling, searching for what Fan wanted before he articulated it so that he wouldn’t be caught off-guard, could have an answer already prepared.

Fan straightened, pulled out a cigarette, and held it out for Diego to light. He puffed on it for a minute, blowing smoke, shark eyes never leaving Kokichi’s face.

“The big boss ain’t ever taken on a kid before, but I could put in a good word for you,” Fan said lowly, with a razor-edged smile and ice-cold eyes. “He ain’t got kids of his own, you know, and he’s got this nice little family business, yeah? He could adopt you, like the old boss adopted him. Give you a nice home. Train you up to lead the operation yourself one day. And you’d remember who gave you your leg up, wouldn’t ya? Are you in or out, Kokichi?”

Fan never called him by name, and Kokichi didn’t like the way he rolled the syllables around in his mouth. It was more disgusting than all the times an old fogey had kissed him.

Kokichi could hear all the ugly subtext in Fan’s offer. No, his _order_. Fan wasn’t the kind of man adults said no to, let alone a kid. But the order was only for Kokichi. Doing what Fan wanted would mean leaving the gang, and probably never seeing them again. Abandoning them, for a life with people like Fan, who had used and abused his friends, murdered half their families.

Plus, the big boss… Kokichi had only seen him once, and just the thought of that man adopting him made his blood run cold.

But when he said “in or out,” he meant for good. There were no other options. And by "out," Fan probably meant...

Fan probably wouldn’t even let Kokichi get away with putting him off, but he had to try. He had to get back to the others, get them all out of Fan’s territory ASAP.

“Wow, Mr. Fan,” Kokichi breathed, eyes wide and awed. “That’s… that’s so much. I dunno if I could do all that.” He bit his lower lip, plucked at the collar of his shirt. “I… need to think about it. I wouldn’t wanna sign up just to disappoint you.”

Fan tapped his fingers on the table, ashes falling off his cigarette. His predatory smile turned into an ugly sneer.

“Sure,” he purred, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a set of dice. “I’ll give you…”

Fan rolled the dice. Snake eyes.

The _loaded_ dice.

“Two hours to think about it,” Fan said, low and full of malice. “Better hurry home, Kokichi.”

He wasn’t getting a ride to the abandoned building today. Reaching the warehouse in two hours, on foot? If he ran the whole way, maybe he could do it. Maybe.

The message was clear: _Run away by yourself, because you can't save your friends._

Well, they'd see about that.

Kokichi didn’t waste one second more. He leapt out of his chair, and bolted for the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the kudos and comments! I really appreciate it. :)


	3. 10-11 years old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more gore than usual in this chapter.

_10 years old, continued_

 

Kokichi ran as fast as he could. Not for the warehouse, but for a nearby jewelry store. It was closed at this hour, he knew how to break in without setting off any alarms, and they had a phone.

One of the early investments he’d suggested the gang make, once they had money, was cell phones. However, they’d agreed to never carry them around Fan, Miss Mari, or anywhere members of the local mob would see them. If the adults ever turned on them, it would be safest if they didn’t know how quickly they could communicate at a distance.

Twenty minutes after Fan delivered his threat, Kokichi had Takumi on the phone.

“Get out of there,” Kokichi urged them. “Find somewhere to hide.”

“What about you?” Takumi asked. Kokichi could already here the rush of movement in the background.

“I don’t wanna be out on the streets in case they follow me. I’ll hide here.”

“But – ” Takumi started, before he was abruptly cut off, and Kokichi heard Teo say, _“Give me that.”_

“Where you at right now, Kokichi?” Teo demanded.

“Why?” Kokichi shot back.

“I’m comin’ to get you.”

“No,” Kokichi said. It was easier for one person to hide than two, and even if Fan or his men did find him, none of the others would be in danger. This had happened because Kokichi had let his guard down, had made himself too useful to the mob, had been too greedy. He's the one who'd gotten the gang involved with them in the first place. If anyone had to pay for those mistakes, it would be him, and him alone.

“Who’s the leader here?” Teo scoffed. “I’m comin’ whether you want me to or not. If I don’t know where you are, I’ll just search that whole area ‘til I find you.”

A stupid, dangerous plan, but Teo would really do it. The only way to minimize the risk was to tell him where he was.

Reluctantly, Kokichi relayed the location where he planned to hide. “You shouldn’t come, though,” he finished, sulking.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Teo said curtly. “I ain’t leavin’ you behind.” He hung up.

On the second level of the jewelry store was an office, with a dozen or so cubicles. Kokichi tucked himself inside a cabinet, folded his body into a ball on the lower shelf, and waited.

The seconds ticked by slowly, an eternity between every thudding heartbeat. Kokichi waited, and waited, and waited.

A thousand eternities later – maybe about an hour and a half had passed – Kokichi heard heavy, adult footsteps coming up the staircase from the ground floor.

“ – sure this is the right building?” Fan’s voice filled the room, stabbed Kokichi’s eardrums, low and menacing.

“He ran in here, and never came out,” an unfamiliar man replied. “I was watchin’ the whole time, sir.”

Kokichi’s veins froze over with horror. Fan had tricked him. They’d been stupid to think the mob would underestimate them; of course Fan and his goons knew they had phones. The threat to Kokichi’s friends had been made to manipulate Kokichi’s response – so that he would warn them and hide somewhere nearby.

Kokichi had thought he’d had enough of a head start that no matter who followed him or when, they wouldn’t have seen him come in here. That the grown-ups would think him stupid enough to try and run all the way back to the warehouse, and not have eyes in the opposite direction. He’d assumed Fan wouldn’t be able to find him, and would have to prioritize hurting him emotionally, instead of the physical punishment he’d clearly intended to inflict.

He’d been the one underestimating Fan, all along.

“You two, check the third floor,” Fan said curtly. “The rest of you, search this one.”

How many sets of footsteps was that, all together? Six, seven? Kokichi heard the scraping rustle of cloth against the floor – the adults were checking under the desks. A small hinge creaked; they were checking inside the cabinets, too. Being more thorough than Kokichi had expected them to be.

Cursing himself inwardly for being the stupid kid Fan had expected _him_ to be, Kokichi eeled out of the cabinet, making as little noise as possible. Someone was probably still by the stairs, but the emergency exit was closer to Kokichi.

Crawling on the floor, carefully evading the flashlight beams sweeping the back of the room, somehow, Kokichi managed to make it to the door.

Knowing an alarm would go up the moment he opened it anyway, he tossed caution to the wind and threw himself through it, halfway down the fire escape before it had even closed behind him.

By the time he heard the thunder of heavy feet running down the fire escape after him, Kokichi was on the street level and running as if his life depended on it.

‘As if’…? No, his life _definitely_ depended on it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, was Kokichi’s mantra as he ran, fighting back the sting of tears. If he lived through this, he was never underestimating anyone ever again. There was no force in this world more devious, more cunning, more deceptive, more powerful than human malice.

Too many footsteps behind him, too close. He wasn’t going to make it –

“Kokichi!”

Kokichi skidded as he scrambled to make a late turn down the alleyway that call had come from, instinctively homing in on the only person he’d ever trusted to take care of him, keep him safe. “Teo!”

Teo ran to meet him, arm outstretched. Kokichi reached out to take Teo’s hand –

One gunshot. A crimson hole erupted in the middle of Teo’s forehead, wet heat and shards of bone splashing across Kokichi’s face. Teo collapsed to the ground, and went still.

Kokichi screamed, and screamed, and screamed, so loud he never heard the second shot.

The ground rushed up to meet him, and the world went dark.

 

~*~

 

The world came back in bits and pieces. The smell of antiseptic, soft machine beeps, a mattress under his back, an aching pain in his shoulder blade.

And finally, light.

“Awake, are ya?”

Kokichi looked over sharply, glaring at the woman in the door. She wore a doctor’s coat.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Don’t look at me like that, kid. I ain’t gonna bite ya.”

“Where am I?” Kokichi asked, voice thick and slurred. “What happened? Where’s – ”

_Teo_.

Kokichi’s breath skidded to a halt, then hitched up into a sob.

He couldn’t remember ever crying before. Now, tears soaked his cheeks, and ragged wails of sorrow and agony erupted from his chest.

Teo was dead, and it was his fault. All his fault. He’d underestimated the adults, gotten them too deeply tangled with the mob, told Teo where he was hiding. Every choice he’d made in the last four years had been a mistake, a stupid, childish mistake, and because of him, Teo died.

When the sobs finally began to subside, the tears slowing and his throat too raw to do more than whimper, the woman doctor came and sat on the bed by Kokichi’s feet.

“Yer in my basement,” she said, as casually as if Kokichi hadn’t just been crying his heart out. “I patch up folks what can’t go to a hospital. Ya were shot right outside my door, figured I might as well take ya in. Other kid was already dead, sorry to say. But lucky you, ya just had a bullet stuck in yer shoulder blade. Nothin’ important damaged, easy to pull out. Take it easy for a couple months, you’ll be fine. Kids heal fast.”

A back alley doctor who treated gunshot wounds, so close to Fan’s base of operations? Kokichi was pretty sure he’d heard the grown-ups talking about her before. Her name, her name…

“You’re.. Dr. Asha, right?” Kokichi managed weakly.

“Aye, that’s me,” she confirmed. “And yer Kokichi, yeah?”

Kokichi nodded warily. She’d saved him, so she must want something from him.

“Relax, kid,” Dr. Asha said, lips twitching. “All I want is money. If ya pay me extra, I don’t mind helpin’ ya and yer friends get set up somewhere outside Fan’s territory.”

“How come?” Kokichi asked. Dr. Asha shrugged.

“Didn’t become a doctor because I like seein’ folks die. Kids especially. Ain't no risk to me, Fan and a dozen others in his crew owe me their lives. And I know yer smart enough to bring in big bucks some day. Ya won't waste a second chance, yeah?”

Kokichi looked away, eyes losing focus as his mind began to churn. What the gang would do now, how to survive from now on… the least he could do for Teo was make sure everyone else lived.

And make Fan pay.

“Yeah,” Kokichi said quietly. “I definitely won’t waste it.”

 

***

 

_11 years old_

 

Kokichi adjusted his costume one last time, then held out his hand for the mask Takumi held.

“I still don’t like this plan,” Takumi grumbled, handing it over. “And what’s the point of hidin’ your face, anyway? Who else is that small?”

“He hasn’t seen me in ages,” Kokichi retorted. “He won’t realize it’s me right away. When I show him who I am, he’ll lower his guard.”

“If you say so,” Takumi said dubiously.

“I do say so,” Kokichi declared. “Is your hacking stuff all set up?”

“I think so.” Takumi sat down in front of the computer, fingers flying across the keys. He put on his headset, and turned on the mic. “Testing, one two. Everyone check in if you can hear me, over.”

“I hear you, over,” said Emi.

“Ready when you are, over,” said Big Bo.

“Let’s just go already, over,” said Little Bo.

“That’s everybody, over,” Kokichi said, hand on his own earpiece. While the four of them did this mission, Lee, Su, Ken, Chen, and Mei would be preparing for the next, with Takumi coordinating everything from their new base.

It had been six months since Teo died. Kokichi was finally recovered, and Dr. Asha had helped move them in to an old theatre that had gone under a few years ago. Paying her off had taken almost all of their savings, though, and it would take more to keep her quiet long-term, so the gang was in desperate need of money.

None of the others had made any complaints when Kokichi took charge of the gang, and only Takumi had grumbled about his plans – even then, only superficially. They’d spent the months of his recovery fussing over him, as they all struggled together with grief and fear and fury.

No one had blamed Kokichi for Teo’s death. Part of him wished they would, wished at least Lee would scream and curse and hit him, but mostly, he just loved them all the more fiercely.

He really did have the best family.

Kokichi rejoined his mission teammates in the entrance hall, and looked them over. For reasons of both aesthetics and practicality, he’d insisted they use some of the costumes and masks left behind in the theatre to disguise themselves.

Emi was dressed as a ninja, with a cat mask. Big Bo and Little Bo wore matching American cowboy costumes, with fox and tanuki masks, respectively. Kokichi himself was dressed as a mime, but with a more traditional clown mask.

“Alright, time to go,” Kokichi said.

Their target today was the local branch of a global, multibillion corporation, since the CEO was visiting for the first time in several years. Takumi and Kokichi had worked for weeks on hacking undetected into the computer system, while the others watched the physical building, followed employees home, and gathered other real-world intel.

The plan was for Takumi to take control of the surveillance and keep them from being caught on tape. Emi and Little Bo would break into the safe on the basement level, setting off the alarm and bringing all the security guards running. Meanwhile, Kokichi and Big Bo went to the CEO’s office on the top floor. Big Bo would hide near the door, where he could keep watch, and Kokichi made himself comfortable at the CEO’s desk.

For once, they got lucky – no, they’d worked hard to make some good luck for themselves. Kokichi had made sure they were prepared for every conceivable way the plan could go wrong, and that they would prioritize safety over success.

But the cards fell in their favor, and just as planned, the CEO stormed into the room alone while the downstairs alarm was still blaring.

He froze when he saw Kokichi sitting at his desk, feet propped on the table. “Who the hell are you?!” he demanded.

Kokichi giggled, and pulled off his mask. The CEO’s eyes went wide.

“Hi, Jing,” Kokichi purred. “Remember me? If not, I’ve got something to help jog your memory~!” He waved a few photos in Jing’s direction. The covert photos taken at one of Miss Mari’s parties three years ago, but never put to use because business had picked up and Jing didn’t have the time to attend little charity parties in a poor country anymore.

Jing paled. “K-Kaori?”

Kokichi stretched, then hopped nimbly on top of the desk. “It’s Kokichi, actually!” His hand struck out, viper-fast, and seized Jing’s tie. He yanked it until he and Jing were face-to-face. Every bead of sweat on Jing’s face was visible, his eyes fixed on Kokichi’s viciously mocking sneer.

“Let’s have a little chat, okaaaaaaay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was super difficult to write. Hopefully the next one comes easier. 8’)


	4. 11-13 years old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the positive comments and kudos! It really helps motivate me to work on this. :D

_11 years old, continued_

 

It was mind-boggling how much of a difference having enough money made. All of a sudden, all Kokichi’s ambitions were within reach, and the world rained down luck and success in a never-ending tempest.

The first thing he did was pay off Dr. Asha and the other adults cooperating with his plan. Takumi updated his equipment; Su wrangled them all into being perfectly clean, hygienic, and well-groomed for the first time in their lives; Big Bo and Little Bo negotiated a luxury suite in a hotel for their new living quarters; Ken and Emi brought home armfuls of fresh, delicious, nutrient-rich food.

Chen and Mei took the sketched-out ideas Kokichi gave them, and came home with uniforms, masks, and checkered scarves.

“Why clown masks?” Lee asked, picking his up and turning it back and forth.

“If we’re seen as just a gang of hungry kids, no one will take us seriously,” Kokichi replied. “With uniforms like this, we look like members of a secret organization. It gives us legitimacy.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Lee said, eyebrows lifting, “but why _clown_ masks?”

“Because I’m the leader and I want clown masks,” Kokichi declared with more hauteur than he actually felt. Lee just snorted.

“Alright then, leader,” Takumi drawled from his desk, not looking away from the computer screen as his fingers flew across the keys. “What’s our _secret organization_ called?”

Kokichi thought about it for a minute. He wanted a name with personal significance to them, a name that held to the aura of sinister whimsy he was going for but still represented everything they stood for: freedom, anarchy, and above all, the power to change their fates.

An image of Fan rolling the loaded dice flashed through his head.

“DICE,” Kokichi decided. “That’s what we’re called.”

And DICE’s first order of business: destroy the local mob in the most humiliating manner possible.

They put Kokichi’s plan in motion within a month of blackmailing Jing; they didn’t want word to spread about their new wealth before it was time to act.

Most of the components of the plan were put into action in bits and pieces ahead of time. Bribes, hacking, and the tools they needed were all in place before the day of final action arrived.

Step one: remote-controlled stink bombs in the six buildings within the mob’s territory that they used for their operations, and a bribed man pulling the fire alarm in each one to further encourage evacuation.

Step two: when the DICE member stationed at each building confirmed with Takumi, hacked into surveillance, that the evacuation was complete and no one was left inside, they set off the remote-controlled _real_ bombs, and wholly demolished the buildings.

Step three: Takumi activated the virus that would withdraw all the mob’s money from their twenty-odd bank accounts across the globe, plus the personal bank accounts of the big boss and the men involved with Teo’s death, and make it look like Fan’s doing.

Step four:

“What the fuck?” Fan wheezed, watching incredulously as his personal base of operations crumbled to the ground in thunder and fire. “What the _fuck!_ ”

“Oh maaaaan, that’s some terrible luck, isn’t it?”

Fan whipped around, eyes wild and furious. Kokichi wondered how he perceived what he saw: a small figure in white, with black cape and hat, a clown’s mask, and a checkered scarf, reclining on the awning of the store across the street as if he were Caesar in his palace.

Fan’s hand plunged into his jacket, undoubtedly going for his gun, but his own bodyguards grabbed him roughly by the arms and restrained him. One of them retrieved Fan’s gun, and tossed it to Kokichi, who caught it with ease. He sat up, and casually began pulling pullets out of the chamber.

“This just isn’t a good night for you, is it?” Kokichi said with a dramatic sigh as he worked. One, two, three, four, five bullets out. “All your bases destroyed, all your men bribed, all your money gone… and there’s security footage of your own employees placing the bombs, along with paper evidence that you ordered the bombing to try and collect on insurance money! I suppose a good lawyer could have helped you guys get out of that, but you probably can’t afford that anymore, huh?”

Kokichi nimbly hopped down from the awning, twirling the gun between his fingers. Lee and Takumi appeared out of the shadows, falling in on either side of him.

Fan glared at them with murder in his eyes. “Kokichi,” he spat. “You think I won’t kill you for this, you little shit?”

Kokichi laughed, incensing the mobster even further. “I know you won’t! The police are on their way, and they’ve got some incentives,” he rubbed his fingers together, “to put you away for the rest of your life. Well, assuming it doesn’t end tonight, anyway.”

Behind Fan, Zhen aimed a gun at his head to keep him from trying anything, and the other two let go. Kokichi spun the chamber of Fan’s gun, then tossed it back to him.

“How about a little game of Russian Roulette while we wait for the cops?” Kokichi suggested sweetly. “I know Zhen has _so_ been looking forward to it… his finger might slip if you disappoint him~!”

Fan’s jaw clenched, but finally, _finally_ , he had the same desperation in his eyes that Kokichi had lived with his whole life. The existential fear that he could die at any moment, and no one would even try to save him. That the world was actively against him, was _trying_ to get him killed, and luck alone would save or doom him.

Kokichi hated death, hated killing. Teo had, too. The whole gang did. But they’d all agreed to accept the 1/6 chance of murdering Fan, to make sure he suffered the same way they had.

“You have ten seconds,” Zhen growled from behind Fan. “Ten… nine…”

Raw hatred and bestial fear in his eyes, Fan’s shaking hand lifted the gun to his head, and pulled the trigger.

Approaching police and fire truck sirens drowned out the click of a blank shot. Fan sagged to his knees, drenched in sweat and panting. He'd wet his pants.

“Oh, well,” Kokichi sighed with feigned disappointment. “This is a better fate for you, anyway.”

Kokichi vanished into the shadows, followed by Lee and Takumi. They watched from a nearby rooftop as Fan was loaded into a police car, and taken away.

Takumi draped an arm around Kokichi’s shoulders, and Lee snatched his hat so he could ruffle Kokichi’s hair.

“Teo would be proud,” Lee said softly.

“Thanks,” Kokichi replied, eyes stinging. He took off his mask so he could swipe at his face. He didn’t intend to cry sincere tears ever again. That moment at Dr. Asha’s place would be the one and only time he surrendered to sorrow. “But this is just the beginning.”

 

***

 

_12 years old_

 

It had been about a year or so since DICE had escaped their city of poverty-stricken origin. They’d spent that time traveling from country to country, stealing and vandalizing and upsetting the structures of power wherever they went.

For the first time in his life, Kokichi felt truly lucky.

Well, except for one small, recurring problem, that DICE just couldn’t seem to escape, no matter where they went.

“Shouldn’t you kids be in school?”

Lee’s upper lip curled as he glared down at the bellhop who’d brought them their room service. Always large for his age, at thirteen he was already taller than many adults.

“That ain’t none of your business,” he growled. “Now beat it before we complain to your manager.”

The bellhop squeaked, and fled.

Once the door was closed, Kokichi heaved a sigh. “We need to figure out a better answer when grown ups ask us that. Intimidating them draws too much attention.”

“I’ve tried saying I’m doing a research project,” Takumi said. “But then I get asked for what school. I usually make something up, since I don’t know what the local schools are or if they require uniforms, but that usually makes people more suspicious because they’ve never heard of it.”

“These could pass for school uniforms,” Chen pointed out, patting the front of his DICE outfit. “For an eccentric private school, anyway.”

“Any private school with enough money to have students traveling the world would have to be eccentric anyway.” Emi shrugged. “Just forge up some documents and student IDs, Kokichi.”

Kokichi tapped his chin thoughtfully. Then, he grinned. “Why leave it at that? Let’s found a real, fake school.”

The others all stared at him.

“You’re crazy,” Su sighed, shaking her head with a rueful smile.

“But that’s why he’s such a good leader,” Little Bo added, snickering.

“I think I know someone who’d be able to help us with the logistics,” Takumi said slowly. “A real, fake school probably isn’t much different than a real, fake orphanage.”

Kokichi frowned. “She was working with the mob, Takumi. Even if we could trust her to help with something like this, she probably hates us.”

Takumi hesitated, and then said, “I gave her a heads up so she could get out of the country before we put our plan in motion. I left her bank accounts alone, too. We can’t trust her fully, but she doesn’t like violence either, Kokichi. She really, honestly likes us. Especially you.”

That was the first Kokichi had heard of the favor Takumi had done for Miss Mari. But even if he didn’t trust her, he did trust Takumi.

“You’ve known her longer than me, I guess,” Kokichi said. He didn’t ask a question, but Takumi heard the request for an explanation anyway.

Takumi gave a sad smile and a one shoulder shrug. “She’s my half-sister. If she hadn’t saved me from our Dad, I probably wouldn’t have lived long enough to meet you. Even though she didn’t know how to raise a kid, she still did the best she could to help me. At the very least, I didn’t want to feel like I owed her anything.”

Kokichi thought back to Takumi as he’d been when they’d first met. Dull-eyed and barely verbal, with old scars he’d refused to talk about. And Miss Mari: a beautiful young woman working for the mob, who’d seen herself in Kokichi, and how Jing and men like him had treated “Kaori” at the charity parties. Who’d paid them well for work that men like Fan would have tossed them crumbs of rotting food for.

“Alright,” Kokichi agreed, and Takumi relaxed. “Give her a call.”

Kokichi didn’t think he could ever trust her, but at the very least, he was willing to use her.

 

***

 

_13 years old_

 

“I can’t believe we got this place operating in less than a year,” Miss Mari said, pacing the hallway of the brand new Imperial City’s Imperial Middle School. The affiliated high school, the student and faculty dormitories, and a hospital-like infirmary shared the expansive campus. “How a street urchin like you turned out so crazy-smart, I’ll never know.”

“You did most of the paperwork,” Kokichi replied, arms folded behind his head as he grinned. "You're the smartest one here, Miss Mari!"

“Always a flatterer,” Miss Mari giggled. Kokichi had been surprised to learn she was still under thirty, had only been twenty when they’d met. If she’d had friends to support her, a leader to protect her, and a mentor to teach her when she was growing up, she might have become someone a lot like Kokichi.

He might never be able to fully trust her, but at the very least, she was a useful collaborator. In his own way, he was grateful to her.

With her knowledge and experience of setting up the real-fake orphanage seven years ago, running the charity parties and managing the donations, Miss Mari had been able to help Kokichi create a legitimate-looking school. All the paperwork was in order, all the red tape had been legally dealt with. DICE had provided all the money needed to get the project going, but Miss Mari had put money-generating systems in place that would make the schools self-sufficient.

There were even real students, and real faculty.

The students were street urchins, nonviolent juvenile criminals, orphans – children with no where to go, on the run from the law, just trying to survive and get by the only way they knew how.

The faculty were adults from similar circumstances. Nonviolent criminals, with and without bounties, who needed a safe place to hide or a base of operations. Parolees and illegal immigrants who couldn’t get a job that paid a living wage. Even two or three legitimate teachers, who supported the existence of a facility like this.

Classes were optional, and mostly covered practical survival subjects, but there were normal classes for anyone who wanted them, adult or child. Everyone got enough to eat, clean clothes to wear, and free health care from Dr. Asha and her team. The only requirements for employment or enrollment was to help maintain the campus, lend a hand to DICE if able and willing, and disavow violence.

On paper, Kokichi and the others in DICE would be students here, too, but Kokichi didn’t intend to spend much time on the campus. The world was so much bigger than he'd ever realized as a hungry feral child on the streets, and there were so many places he wanted to see, so many things he wanted to try, so many pranks he wanted to play.

From now on, Kokichi intended to put all his energy into living the fun, exciting life of a nonviolent prankster criminal, with his dearest friends, and sharing that joyful experience with the world. Whether they wanted it or not~!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! I think I’ve gotten past the blockage I struggled with last chapter, so expect it soon. (Ideally tomorrow or the day after, but I make no promises because you never know with writer’s block, lol.)


	5. epilogue (prologue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looooots of headcanons, and a very short chapter. Just wrapping things up. :3
> 
> UPDATE 3/15/2018 (edited 4/20/2018): I was never really happy with this version of pre-game Kokichi, and as my personal interpretations of and theories about the NDRV3 endgame twists have developed, this version has become more and more incompatible with my feelings about it. So I'm officially declaring the final chapter non-canon to the rest of the work. 
> 
> I'm leaving it up partially for posterity's sake, partially as a sort of "what if," but mostly out of respect and gratitude for the people who read, enjoyed, and commented on the final chapter. Seriously, thank you guys so much. 
> 
> Since I plan to write more in the verse of this fic, I wanted to establish that the contents of this chapter no longer apply to the verse.
> 
> Thanks once again for reading, and if you liked my take on Kokichi and DICE, stay tuned!

The boy was led in shackled and muzzled. A bar forced into his mouth, a heavy neck restraint, cuffs on his wrists and ankles; all connected by iron chains.

“That’s a little excessive, don’t you think?” the representative from Team Danganronpa asked the guards flanking the prisoner. “He’s seventeen. A minor.” And so _small_.

“He bites,” one of the guards retorted.

“He’s a danger to himself and others,” the second added. “This is the minimum restraint needed to curtail his aggression.”

The representative shrugged, and turned her attention to the boy.

Small and delicate-looking, it was hard to believe that one morning he’d just up and killed his family, gone to school, and killed thirty-two of his classmates, injuring double that.

Until she met his eyes, and instinctively recoiled.

The abyss was looking back at her. Swirling darkness, a maelstrom of death.

“What _happened_ to him?” she asked faintly.

“Nothing,” the second guard said, upper lip curling in disgust. “Nothing at all, ma’am. Normal family, normal childhood, normal grades. No history of abuse at home, no bullying at school. The psychiatrist we had evaluating him declared him of sound mind. He’s calm and rational, most of the time. But he’s dangerous to anyone who gets too close without the restraints.”

That couldn’t be right, the representative thought faintly. No sane, normal person could do what this boy had done.

But even as fear and unease coursed through her, her excitement levels spiked. He was a perfect fit for the cast of season fifty-three.

Forcing herself to meet the boy’s eyes, she said, “I’m a representative from Team Danganronpa. You know about our franchise, I assume?”

The boy dipped his head, affirming.

“Are you a fan?”

He shrugged. That was unusual; Danganronpa tended to provoke strong feelings in its audience. People either loved it, or loathed it. She’d never seen someone show such apathy for it before.

“You know what it entails, though,” she pressed. He shrugged again, so she went on, “It’s a fictional killing game. Our cast undergoes extreme mental conditioning. Your memories, personality, interests, skills – everything is erased, and replaced with a fictional character’s. Contestants have to sign a waver permitting us to completely destroy their personal identity when they audition.”

She waited to see a reaction. The guards gave her that, exchanging grimaces of distaste.

The boy just continued to stare at her with those awful, empty eyes. So she continued.

“We place contestants into a computer simulation, so they don’t actually die. After the game is over, the people we pull out are the fictional characters. We help them adjust, and set them up with new lives in the real world. Seventy-five percent of them choose to never contact their original self’s family or friends, and those that do communicate with them only rarely. Every evaluation done has proven that they’re wholly different people. The contestants die, and the fictional characters are born.”

She stepped in closer, just a few inches. As close as she dared to be.

“When your case goes to trial, you’ll get the death penalty, of course,” she said. That was pretty much indisputable, at this point, given the magnitude of what he’d done. They’d try him as an adult for sure. “But given the nature of what we do in Danganronpa, participation in our show is acceptable as an alternative. The person you are now will be dead, replaced by a fictional character with a wonderful talent that can benefit society. It’s the best way to atone for what you’ve done, don’t you think? Giving your body to someone else, who will put it to better use?”

Team Danganronpa didn’t scout contestants like this very often. After all, so many people auditioned every season, there was no need for it at all. But this boy’s story had piqued the casting director’s interest, and after running it by the board of directors and the next season’s showrunner, they’d agreed to make the offer. A little extra publicity never hurt, and the real world side of Danganronpa's business hadn't had a good scandal in a while.

She looked to the guards. The second one made a face, but the first one reluctantly unlocked the muzzle, and pulled the iron bar out of the boy’s mouth. He barely even blinked.

“What do you say?” she asked. “Will you accept a role in season fifty-three of Danganronpa?”

“Whatever,” the boy rasped. His voice was soft, all but monotone, but it still sent chills down the representative’s spine, as if she’d been swarmed by locusts. “I don’t care.”

A lackluster response, but as long as he signed the paperwork, that was fine. His indifference didn’t matter; he’d be dead soon enough.

“Welcome to Danganronpa, then,” she said, smiling. “Character Kokichi Ouma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t cover Kokichi’s past after the age of 13 because I wanted to leave it ambiguous whether his history includes Hope’s Peak or the Ultimate Initiative, and also not rehash stuff from canon, like the meteors and the Ultimate Hunt.
> 
> Pregame Kokichi is what I see as Game Kokichi’s complete opposite: an apathetic murderer, who kills for no reason. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! It’s short, but I really wanted to do this kind of character study for my favorite Danganronpa cast member. :3
> 
> \--
> 
> UPDATE 3/15/2018: See Notes at beginning of chapter.


End file.
